They looked at me, and all they saw
was scars, so they called me fragile.
Just one wrong move might shatter me.
But they failed to see,
I didn't want to be treated like
I was made of glass.
I wanted to be strong,
and those scars they saw wasn't a sign
of fragility, it was battle scars of all the wars
I've fought and won.
YOU ARE READING
Chapters of Me
PoesíaStruggling with depression, these poems are my late night thoughts and my internal cries. They are all the chapters of me.
